Coffee shop windows
by Ironicallycanon
Summary: Dear Evan Hansen Coffee shop/Poetry AU "Evan!" Connor called, already starting on the next order. He turned to grab something off the ordering counter and froze. His first thought was that the boy grabbing the mug had the prettiest eyes Connor had ever seen.
1. chapter 1

Connor set the steaming mug on the counter.

"Alana!"

He called, turning to start the next order.

This was how most of his days flew by, save for the ones he had off, in a blur of caffeine-induced highs and whipped cream.

He glanced over at the guys setting up the lighting and microphones for poetry night, which happened on wednesdays.

Connor loved poetry night, and always asked for that shift, though he would never have admitted it.

Maybe it was leftover paranoia from living with his hyper-masculine father, maybe it was something else, but he pretended to hate it all the same.

Poetry night had an average sized group, maybe twenty people, though only about half of them read on stage.

He got that, he would never have read his own poety aloud, mostly he just scribbled down thoughts on bits of paper; nothing profound, just chicken-scratch on napkins that he used on his breaks.

He always threw them away when he got off his break, he wanted nobody to see them.

He set the next steaming mug on the counter.

"Evan!"

Connor called, already starting on the next order.

He turned to grab something off the ordering counter and froze.

His first thought was that the boy grabbing the mug had the prettiest eyes Connor had ever seen.

He shook his head, clearing away his thoughts as the boy turned away.

Connor hadn't seen this boy before, but he was sure that he was in the cafe for poetry night.

He wondered briefly what kind of poetry he was into, then smacked himself internally.

"Quit it, you dipshit."

He muttered, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear.

He checked his watch.

His break was in a few minutes, so he hurried the next order, setting it on the counter so quickly it almost spilled.

"Carly!"

He called, untying his apron and hanging it up.

Pulling his hair into a loose bun, he grabbed his drink and sat down at a table.

He grabbed a napkin and started writing, mostly nonsense, but this kind of word vomit was one of the few things his therapist had taught him that had actually accomplished anything.

He'd started seeing Dr. Carol when he was ten, and had kept with her until he'd left at seventeen.

Most of what she'd taught him was shit, things his parents had told her to do to "help" him, but the few slivers of actually helpful advise had stuck into his twenties.

He had a habit of internalising every emotion, every thought, to the point where he would go weeks and be fine, until he finally reached a boiling point and suddenly exploded on everyone around him.

This eventually lead him to losing several jobs, all of his friends, even his family, though that wasn't completely his fault.

But these short scribbles and chicken-scratch helped to get some of his emotions out, and throwing them away afterwards made him feel better.

Connor was so focused on writing that she jumped out of his skin when he heard someone speak

"What are you doing?"

A soft voice asked, pulling him away from his thoughts.

He crumpled the napkin in one hand, shoving it into his pocket casually and looking up to see who'd spoken, and found himself staring into a pair of warm brown eyes.

His heart skipped a beat when he realised it was the boy from the counter - Evan, he remembered.

Evan smiled, gesturing with his hand to the seat across from Connor, who nodded and sat still as the other boy sat down on the opposite side of the booth.

Connor wasn't one to start a conversation with people, about half the reason he had almost no friends, so he sat, waiting for Evan to speak.

"What were you doing?"

He asked again, fiddling with his fingers on the wooden table.

Connor blinked before responding.

"Uh - I'm out of milk, I was just writing a note."

Evan nodded.

"Milk."

He echoed thoughtfully

Connor nodded back, shifting uncomfortably in his seat.

After a moment of awkward silence, Connor started fidgeting with a packet of sugar.

"A-are you here for poetry night?"

He asked, nodding towards the stage, which now held a couple of mics.

Evan nodded.

"Yeah I have a friend who reads, he asked me to come."

He stopped fidgeting with his fingers and set them at his sides as if he'd just realised he was doing it.

"Jared. Kleinman."

He added after a minute.

Connor knew him.

He was a regular, and the kind of person that only read poetry that he'd written about 

"His women"

He called them.

He was also rather obnoxious and loud, which Connor generally hated, so he'd never talked to the guy.

"Yeah, Jared."

He replied, nodding.

Evan nodded back.

After another awkward silence during which Connor regretted every decision he'd made wishing the last hour, Evan stood up to go.

"Do you write?"

Connor blurted out, desperate to keep him.

Evan smiled, an amused expression on his face.

"Nah, I don't even really like poetry, besides, I couldn't get up on stage."

He smiled again before walking back to where he'd been sitting.

Connor's heart fell a little at that, but he smiled, pulling at the napkin he didn't even realise he'd been messing with.

His phone dinged; his break was over.

He stood up to go back behind the counter, not even realising he'd left the napkin on the table.


	2. Chapter 2

Evan loved poetry.

The fact that the cafe was filled with attractive people was just a bonus.

Not that he'd ever talk to any them, but it was nice anyways.

That is, until he came to the ordering counter to grab his drink, and saw the sharpest cheekbones he'd ever seen on a boy.

With his long hair pulled back into a messy bun, he was easily the prettiest person Evan had seen in a long time. 

He decided right then that he would find some way to talk to him.

The oppurtunity came faster than he'd anticipated when the boy went on break.

He grabbed his drink and walked over to the boy, who was scribbling on a napkin.

 _I can do this_.

"Evan!"

The sound of Jared's fingers snapped Evan out of his daze.

"Hmm?"

He asked, looking into the face of his friend.

"I'm going up."

Jared walked away and up the steps to the small stage.

He looked into the spotlight dramatically.

Evan's interest faded as his friend started read by another of his graphic poems.

It didn't matter, he'd heard it already earlier in the day.

He stood up and picked up hid cup to bring it back to the counter.

He smiled at the boy, whom Evan had named cheekbones, busy making drinks behind the counter, Cheekbones simply nodded and went back to what he was doing.

Evan sighed inwardly and turned to walk away, stopping when he noticed a piece of paper on the floor.

Always someone for not wasting trees, he picked it up, intending to throw it into a bin somewhere when he noticed the writing.

Unfolding it, he realized it was a poem.

And it was really good.

It wasn't signed, so Evan had no idea who'd written it, but the handwriting looked familiar.

He carefully folded it and put it in his pocket.

He clapped as Jared bowed, walking off stage and sitting back down at their table.

Evan handed him the piece of paper and nodded.

Jared read through it quickly, nodding as a smile spread across his face.

"Did you write this?"

He whispered, as a girl with short spiky hair started reading onstage.

Evan shook his head.

"But you need to read this. On stage."

Jared shrugged.

"Fine, I'll go sign up then."

Evan smiled at him as he walked away, giving him a thumbs up.


	3. Chapter 3

_End of may or early June_

Connor froze as he recognized the poem being read onstage by Jared.

 _How did they find it?_

He ran into the back room and leaned against the wall.

 _I must've left it when I got off break_

He took a deep breath, followed by a series of short, shaky ones as he started panicking.

 _I didn't leave my name, it's fine._

He took a deep breath to calm himself somewhat, followed by another few seconds of panic as he remembered that his handwriting was all over the fucking cafe and that _someone_ would have noticed.

 _That's it. All of my dreams out for the world to see._

He smacked himself inwardly for being so dramatic.

It was just the cafe, right? 

He took a calming breath and tucked his hair behind his ear, walking out confidently.

If he had expected to hear whispers and see people not-so-subtly pointing in his direction, he was surprised by the silence and lack of not-so-subtle points in his direction.

No one, it seemed, had figured out that he had written the poem, which seemed to be nearly impossible as everyone was passing around the napkin, and they were all surrounded by his handwriting.

He let out what would have sounded to anyone else a giggle, but to Connor was a manly chuckle.

Looking around in relief and disbelief, he shook his head and started on the next drink.

"Who do you think it is?"

A voice drew Connor from his thoughts and the cup of hot chocolate he was sprinkling cinnamon on.

"Hmm?"

He asked absentmindedly, turning to see who'd spoken.

He froze for a split second when he saw that it was the boy from earlier, whom he'd nicknamed Eyes.

"The poem. Who do you think wrote it?"

Eyes repeated excitedly, his eyes twinkling as his fingers drummed against the wooden counter.

Connor looked around at the signs in the cafe, shaking his head in amusement.

"I have no idea."

He replied with a smile.

Eyes raised an eyebrow, biting his lip in thought.

"I'm Evan."

He said after a moment.

Connor mirrored his expression.

"Connor."

He set the steaming mug on the counter, calling for its owner.

"Connor. I like it."

Evan said decidedly.

The lighting in the cafe illuminated the freckles on the boys face so they looked like tiny stars.

Connor shook his head and looked down at his hands, tucking a strand of hair back into his bun.

Evan tilted his head, smiling to himself.

"Well, Connor, I will talk to you later."

He smiled and turned, walking back to his table.

Connor watched him through his eyelashes, sighing as he turned to start on the next drink.


	4. Chapter 4

Two weeks.

Four poems.

Poetry night happened on wednesdays and sundays, which gave Connor time to write another in between shifts.

He was under no illusion that he'd be able to keep up the charade, he knew he didn't have enough material, and the stress to be amazing was starting to get to him, but for now, he was enjoying doing something he'd been previously shunned for.

And having something to talk to Evan about was definitely a plus.

The poetry nighters had started calling Unknown.

Someone had tried writing one, but everyone had pretty quickly figured out it was a fake.

Two weeks to the day when someone started replying.

Connor was wiping down tables after closing 

With his friend Alana when he found a folded-up piece of paper.

The word 

"Unnamed"

Was typed neatly across the page.

Connor unfolded it hesitantly,

Surely it had been meant to be found, right?

The title read 

"Waving through a window"

And Connor smiled as he read it, 

Everything he'd been feeling since highschool put into words that made his eyes sting with tears that he quickly wiped away.

"Alana!"

A short girl wearing glasses appeared in the doorway.

Alana did technically work at the cafe, but her schedule as a college student left little time for much else, including socializing, which was why Connor was basically her only friend.

"What?"

She walked over, taking the paper that he'd held out for her.

She frowned as she read it, a tear rolling down her cheek as she finished.

"Did you write this?"

She inquired, wiping her face carefully so as not to smudge her makeup.

Connor shook his head.

He took the paper from her and flipped it, showing her the name on the back.

She furrowed her brows, pushing glasses back up on her nose.

"Will you read it?"

He asked.

He was asking a lot of her, he knew.

Not that she had trouble with public speaking, but to ask for her to attend something on a school night was a lot.

She nodded without skipping a beat.

"Of course."

She replied, pulling her phone out of her pocket and tapping rapidly, no doubt moving things around on her calendar.


	5. Chapter 5

_I've learned to slam on the brake._

 _Before I even turn the key._

Evan's pulse raced as he heard the first line of his poem was read.

It had taken a lot of convincing for him to even write a poem.

He recalled the conversation with Jared from a week earlier.

"I think I'm in love."

Evan sighed dreamily, resting his head in his hands as he sat across from his friend.

"They way they write makes me feel..."

He trailed off, trying to think of the right word.

"Euphoric."

He finished simply.

Jared rolled his eyes, taking his earbuds out.

"Then talk to them."

He replied, typing away at his laptop.

Evan furrowed his eyebrows.

"I don't know who they are, how would I talk to them?"

He asked.

Jared scoffed.

"You're an idiot. Seriously man, they're a poet, right? Just write them a poem or something."

Jared put one of his earbuds back in, drumming his fingers on the table.

Evan thought for a minute.

"I can't write poetry."

He replied.

Jared waved a hand dismissively.

"Just make some shit up.

Listen, people will find meaning in anything."

He pointed to the window.

"Take this for instance. You could say anything about it, and it means something because windows always mean something."

Evan nodded slowly.

"Okay then."

He replied, digging a pen and paper out of his backpack.

 _I'm tap, tap, tapping through the glass._

 _Waving through a window._

It had taken him a full week to write the poem, but it seemed to have captured the crowd's attention.

Evan wasn't sure who the girl was who was reading it, but she had a voice for poetry.

He felt as if he was being held above the world on a cloud, the clicheness of this was not lost on him, but he didn't care.

They loved him; or rather, they loved Unnamed, a title Jared had given him after days of trying to find a suitable name for his persona.

"Who do you think it is?"

Evan looked up, his heart skipping a beat when he saw Connor leaning on the counter behind his table.

"I, uh, I don't know."

Connor was an expression that was half amusement, and half something else that Evan couldn't put a name to.

"Well they're amazing, whoever it is."

The other boy looked at the stage, where the girl had finished reading and was walking down the short steps as applause sounded around the room.

She bounced over to Connor.

"Hey, great job,"

Connor said, giving her a high-five.

"Thanks."

She smiled brightly, her dark skin illuminated under the fairy lights.

Her phone buzzed.

She looked at it and frowned.

"Hey Con, I gotta go, but I will see you later."

She stood on her tiptoes and kissed him on the cheek before running out the door, purse in hand.

Evan's heart sank as he watched Connor's eyes follow the girl out the door.

He smacked himself inwardly.

 _Of course he has a girlfriend._

 _Cheekbones like that..._

He sighed and stood up, and Connor's head turned to look at him.

"Leaving?"

He asked, bouncing on the balls of his feet.

"Yeah, I - I forgot I have this, this thing."

He slung his backpack over his shoulder, all sense of euphoria gone.

"Oh,"

Connor frowned, looking slightly disappointed.

Evan stomped down the little feeling of hope that sparked inside him at that.

"Yeah..."

He scratched the back of his neck and adjusted the strap of his bag awkwardly.

"Well, I'll - I'll see you later, Connor."

The other boy smiled faintly.

"Yeah, see you, Evan."

Evan shook his head and walked away before he did something stupid.


	6. Chapter 6

Evan folded the paper and tucked it into his pocket, shouldering his backpack and walking out the door.

It had been a couple of weeks since the poems had started, and only a week or two since he'd started leaving his own.

He had also become something of a legend at poetry night, though no one had figured out who it was yet.

He was simultaneously surprised by that, and not that surprised, as he hadn't yet figured out who Unknown was.

His phone buzzed, and he pulled it out to find a text from Zoe, one of his better friends.

He smiled to himself.

Once upon a time, he had thought he was in love with her.

The memory made him laugh slightly.

"Coffee?"

The message read.

he texted back as he unchained his bike from the rack.

"How about lunch? The regular?"

He threw the chain into his backpack.

She replied with a thumbs up, and he zipped his phone into his jacket pocket before throwing a leg over the seat and taking off.

A la mode was, if for no one else,

A sacred place for Evan and Zoe.

Zoe had been going there since she was a child, and Evan had been going there since he'd met Zoe.

It was technically an ice cream parlor, but if you knew to ask, their tomato flatbreads were to die for.

The bell above the door jingled as Evan walked in, his mood immediately lifted by the brightly colored room.

He sat down at the table in the farthest corner of the room by the window - their Spot - and set his bag down beside him.

He dug the paper out of his pocket and unfolded it, taking in every line slowly as not to miss anything.

 _If I could tell her,_

 _Tell her everything I see,_

His reading was interrupted by Zoe bursting in and greeting Mae, who owned the parlor with her partner.

The older woman smiled warmly and waved. 

"The usual?"

She asked, already turning to start.

"You're the best,"

Zoe replied, finger guns blazing as she sat down across from Evan.

"How's it going?"

She asked in a singsong voice, adjusting her baseball hat on her head.

"Read this."

He thrust the paper into her hands, and she skimmed through the poem quickly.

She folded it back up, rolling her eyes and handing it back to Evan. 

He knew she didn't care much for poetry, but was constantly trying to get her to come to poetry night.

"It's so sweet of you to write a poem, but I'm not coming to your poetry night,"

Evan shook his head as Mae laid a plate of tomato flatbread down in front of them.

Zoe beamed at her.

"Love of my life!"

She called as she grabbed a piece and took a bite.

"I didn't write this,"

He said simply, raising his eyebrows.

"Then who did?"

She asked through a mouthful of food.

"I don't know, someone at poetry night."

She raised an eyebrow in question,

And he quickly gave her a rundown of the past couple of weeks.

"Hmm. That's kind of sexy."

She replied after a thoughtful moment.

Evan blushed, rolling his eyes. 

"It's funny though, because I used to draw stars all over my jeans when I was bored."

Zoe laughed.

"It's going to be read onstage tonight, you should come."

She shrugged. 

"Alright."

His eyes widened in surprise.

"Alright?"

He echoed.

"I've been trying to get you to come for weeks, and that's all it took?"

He asked.

She smiled, wiping her fingers with an and crumpling it into a ball.

"Sounds interesting. Where'd you say it was?"

"Joe's cup, off east harbor."

Zoe snorted.

"You're joking."

Evan shook his head slowly in confusion.

"No?"

Zoe laughed humorlessly and sighed.

taking the note back from Evan, she reread it slowly.

"I'll bet I can guess who wrote this."

Evan raised his eyebrows.

"Who is it then?"

He inquired, 

His shoulders moving excitedly.

She raised an eyebrow.

"Oh no, you gotta figure this out on your own, tree boy."

She replied with a smirk.

Evan slunk back in his chair and grabbed a piece of flatbread.

"You're not my friend."

He replied with mock hurt, earning a smile from Zoe, who simply took a bite of bread and shrugged.


	7. Chapter Seven

_"But we're a million worlds apart."_

Jared said softly into the mic.

Jared was an asshole, but he knew how to read poetry in a way that made people lean forwards slightly so as not to miss a word.

As he finished the poem, he took a dramatic bow, the audience cheering and yelling.

Zoe clapped along politely, shooting a glare at Connor, who was behind the counter.

He had already tried to talk to her, but she'd walked off without a word to Connor, who'd slunk back behind the drink counter with a scowl.

Luckily, Evan had been talking to someone else when that had happened, because Zoe wasn't in the mood to explain that Connor was her brother, and had wrecked her life throughout high school with his drug addiction and mental illness.

The bipolar disorder, she recognized wasn't his fault. That had been an unlucky roll of the dice. The drug addiction however, had been completely his fault, and was something she hated him for.

The older brother she'd idolized as a child would not have been so weak.

She had not been so weak.

Because even after all The nightmares that sometimes woke her up in the middle of the night sobbing because of the fear.

The anxiousness that made her jump whenever there was a loud noise.

The memory that made her crumple into herself when she got into arguments, afraid that it would escalate into something unbearable.

He had done that to her.

With his stabbing words, with his red eyes when he came home high and banged on her door screaming obscenities.

Most days when he was home she lock herself in her room and hide in her closet, their parents who refused to see anything more than the bickering of siblings.

All of this that she had endured, And still she had not turned to drugs.

Hadn't turned to something that would ease the pain but would have wrecked her life and the lives of the people she cared about.

Say what you will, but she'd had enough of Connor's shit to last a lifetime.

Evan had been shooting her inquisitive looks for the last hour, all of which she'd pretended she hadn't seen.

She didn't have the energy to explain who Connor was to her, and she why she hated him, nor did she have the patience to deal with Evan's optimism, a trait she normally loved him for.

And she knew exactly what he'd say.

"Maybe you could just give it another try?"

"He seems really nice now."

Because she hadn't failed to noticed the puppy eyes he was giving her brother, and she had every intention of stopping whatever it was before Connor broke him, just as he'd broken their family, and most every relationship since middle school.

Because she had seen the way Connor's eyes followed Evan, discreetly, but she had learned all his tricks long ago.

She had seen the shy smiles shared between them when Evan ordered his drink, and every time he refilled it.

And because she knew Connor all too well.

He would find some crack in Evan, and he would use that to control him, as he had with Zoe.

He would not break Evan.

Her sweet, sweet Evan, who still cried when he accidentally squished a bug, who didn't eat meat because he couldn't stand the thought of something innocent dying for his pleasure. Evan, who brought her ice cream and wine when one of her relationships ended and stayed up with her all night watching stupid chick-flicks.

No, she wouldn't allow that.

And when everyone had read their poetry and were packing up to leave, she pulled Connor, who looked plenty surprised and somewhat pleased, into a corner and put on her no-shit face.

"Leave him alone."

She watched as his features contorted into confusion and then realization as he glanced at Evan and then back at her.

"I wasn't going to-"

"Good. Don't."

She pointed her finger at him,

"Because I know you too well Connor, and you're not going to hurt him too."

Connor opened his mouth to say something, but she shook her head and walked away, grabbing Evan's hand and pulling him out the door.

"Is everything okay?"

He asked once they were around the corner and she'd slowed down.

She blinked away the tears and wiped her eyes, turning towards him with a smile.

"That was a really pretty poem, thanks for bringing me, Evan."

Se replied, hugging him tightly.

"I gotta get home, but you be safe okay?"

She said, kissing him on the cheek and walking away from a very confused Evan.


	8. Chapter 8

"So tell me why Zoe was there? She hates poetry."

Jared asked, his eyes glued to the tv screen.

Evan looked up from his book and sighed,

"I know that, it's just, it's just that I thought she'd want to hear it, what with everything that happened with her brother."

He replied, watching absentmindedly as Jared jumped up from the couch and promptly sat back down, still staring at the screen.

"And you thought a poem might make up for all that?"

He inquired, shaking his head and laughing.

Evan rolled his eyes.

"Well when you say it like that,"

He trailed off, picking his book back up.

"And obviously if didn't help that he kept trying to talk to her."

Jared stated, leaning back into the couch.

Evan jerked up his head to look at the other boy.

"Her brother was there?"

His mind played through the night, trying to remember who had talked to her.

"Yeah, you're coffee boy. That's the brother."

Jared paused his game and took in Evan's shocked expression.

He laughed,

"You didn't know?"

He slapped his knee comically and stood up.

"Has she never told you his name?"

He asked.

Evan blinked.

"I mean she, she did, but I never connected it, they don't look alike, and, and how many guys named Connor have you met in your life?"

Evan shrugged as Jared lifted an eyebrow.

"Not many, my friend."

He replied as he unpaused his game and sat back down.

"Not many."

( Filler )

Evan knocked on Zoe's apartment door and stood back, wiping sweat from his forehead.

It had been hotter than the forecast had predicted and he was dressed for much colder weather.

It didn't help that he had biked a half hour to where Zoe lived in said hot weather and long sleeves.

She opened the door partly, looking through the chain on the door.

Zoe smiled and closed the door as she unchained it and let him in.

She was wearing pajamas and her hands were covered in paint.

"What's up?"

She asked, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear and smearing paint on her cheek.

"It's hot outside."

He replied, wiping his brow with his sleeve.

"I'll get you something to drink and then we can talk."

She winked at him and walked into the kitchen, gesturing for him to follow.

He obeyed, and pulled himself up onto the counter as she rifled through cabinets, pulling out two cups, and some lemonade mix.

Evan tried to get his thoughts together as she mixed the drinks.

He wanted to be casual, but that kind of thing didn't usually work out for him, so that was a no, and he didn't want to be too nervous about it, except that was basically his entire personality, so he went back to trying to figure out what to say.

Zoe opened the freezer and grabbed a couple of ice cubes.

"Why didn't you tell me Connor was your brother?"

He blurted out.

Zoe froze.

Her features contorted into a panic for a second, and then just as quickly were smoothed back into casual indifference.

"I've told you his name before."

She replied, crossing the floor and dropping the cubes into the glasses.

She hand one of them to Evan, and then hopped onto the counter next to him.

He furrowed his brows and looked her in the eyes.

"Yes, but you never said he was _that_ Connor. You know, coffee shop Connor."

Zoe shifted so she could see him better."

"Because it doesn't matter."

She replied simply, picking up her glass.

"What do you mean it doesn't matter? He's your brother,"

Evan waved a hand.

"I mean, he's the same person and just because he works in a caffe shop you think he's cute,"

Evan flushed beet red,

"Doesn't make him a better person. He's the same _stupid_ kid who rebels by being the same person everyone else is, he's probably still high out of his fucking mind-"

"No he's not."

Evan interrupted.

She made a face, setting her glass down.

"I'm not saying you have to trip over yourself trying to get close to him, I'm just saying you should give him a chance. he's a good person."

Zoe raised her eyebrows.

"And you know this because...? You think he's the greatest thing in the world but Evan really? You don't know him! You're in love with the idea of him, but you don't know him!"

She slid off the counter and put her hands in her hips.

Evan was quiet for a second.

"You're right. I don't know him. I am naive and stupid. but I'd like to believe the best of people, and maybe that's childish, but it's better than keeping myself in a box so that no one can hurt me."

He looked angry now.

"You are so caught up in yourself that you can't even see that this might be something good! You're gonna look back on this when you're old, and you're gonn think 'why the fuck didn't I just let this go?' And he's gonna be gone, Zoe!"

She shot a knife-sharp look at him.

"it's not like he broke my fucking toys as a child, Evan. he fucking _chased me around with knives_ when I pissed him off!"

Tears were streaming down her face now.

"I used to lock my door before he got home and hide in my closet, praying that he didn't think of me, because he used to bang on my door and list all the ways he was going to kill me!"

Zoe grabbed her keys and a sweater off the counter.

"So excuse me if I'm not running into his fucking arms with forgiveness."

She spat, running out the door and slamming it behind her.

Evan bolted after her immediately, not even bothering to lock the door behind him.


	9. Chapter 9

She drove off before Evan could get to her, and while he had knew in his mind that he could not, in fact, chase after her on a bike, he got on his bike and chased after her.

The problem of course, was that his legs were not of equal horsepower to that of a car, and so he lost her about thirty seconds later.

He pulled over, all of his secret fears and insecurities crashing into him like a wave that sent him to the ground.

 _She probably hates me._

 _Why didn't I just drop it?_

 _I should have just listened._

All these things and more went through his head in a split second, and kept him on the floor, head between his knees and trying to calm down.

She didn't hate him.

They had both said stupid things that they didn't mean.

He would fix it.

All these things he pushed into his mind to replace the bad thoughts and stop his heavy breathing.

The lump in his throat gradually shrunk, and finally, he stood up, placing his hands on his bike to steady himself while he thought of a plan.

Zoe wouldn't pick up if he called her, and he had no idea where she had gone, so that was a no-go as well.

He figured his best bet was to give her time and space, and then come by later and apologize.

Everything would be fine.

This phrase he repeated to himself as he hopped back on his bike and set his feet to the pedals.

Zoe didn't usually storm out of places like that.

If anything, she was the one who stayed and talked things out until they were fixed.

Most of the time.

Her brother was a gaping wound, and Evan knew that.

He shouldn't have kept prodding like that.

But.

She shouldn't have yelled at him.

His anxiety was probably having a field day, and she had contributed to that.

And he had chased after her _on his bike_.

That alone had almost made her pull over and hug him in tears.

Almost.

She would drive around to calm down a little, and then she would go to his apartment to apologize.

Everything was going to be okay.

This was what she repeated to herself as she drove away.

Evan was practically in tears by the time he got home.

Zoe didn't live very far from him, but it was a far enough distance that his anxiety had plenty of time to fuck up his emotions and convince him that he had just lost his best friend because he couldn't keep his mouth shut.

He parked his bike and locked it onto the bike-rack outside, wiping a tear from his cheek as he did so.

Pocketing his keys, he opened the door and stepped inside.

The apartment he and Jared shared was on the third floor of the complex, and the elevator had been broken since the building had opened, so he was used to climbing them by now.

The problem was that they were very steep, and he could barely see through the tears.

Still, he started up them fearlessly, having done this exact thing ten billion times.

The problem was, the other ten billion times, first of all, he had been able to see clearly, and second of all, his thinking hadn't been otherwise occupied.

Either of these things by themselves would have been fine, but mixed together blocked the thought process that usually reminded Evan that the railing on the stairs on the third floor were quite slippery because his neighbors generally went swimming at around that time, and never cleaned the stairs up after themselves.

So Evan wasn't even all that shocked when his foot went out from under him and he began his descent from the third floor to the first in a series of bruises and breaks.


	10. Chapter 10

*TRIGGER WARNING!!!*

~ this chapter contains blood, broken limbs, bruises, and all that accompanies those things ~

When Evan finally opened his eyes, he was laying , half of his body propped up against a metal stair, the other half laying on the cold, concrete floor of the apartment building.

His head hurt, but beyond that, he couldn't feel anything, and a sharp pang of fear that he'd been paralyzed shot through him, blacking out his vision for a moment.

He tried to sit up, and the pain that shot through his head was enough to send him spinning back into unconsciousness. 

By the time he woke up again, the sun had gone down.

 _Where's Jared?_

He wondered muddily as he tried to assess the damage done to him.

He still couldn't feel much, other than his head, but even As he laid there thinking about it, it started slowly seeping back in.

The various bruises he could see on his arms and the ones he could feel on his legs ached as if he'd been kicked repeatedly by several people and then thrown into a dryer filled with rocks.

His right ankle, in particular, was throbbing, but he could feel it which he hoped meant it was just badly bruised and not broken.

Blood was slowly trickling from a series of scrapes along his arms and hands, and

his left arm was numb, dangling at an angle that sent him reeling with nausea every time he looked at it.

With his functional arm, he reached up and touched his face, which was sticky with blood from a gash above his eyebrow.

His nose didn't feel broken, which was a small blessing, but he could feel a large bruise on his jaw.

He closed his eyes, and took a deep breath, which hurt so badly that he gasped, which in turn sent him back into oblivion with the only thought,

 _This is probably really bad._

He weaved in and out of consciousness for the next several hours, once being awoken as someone's laughter drifted near to and then stopped abruptly as it reached him, to be replaced by yelling and several pair of footsteps.

He felt someone touch his throat and then he existed only in flashes of the world around him.

Once, he was laying flat on some kind of bed in a moving room, two or three people bustling around him. Someone noticed his eyes were open and pointed this out to someone else, and then his world exploded in pain and he started screaming.

Someone else was yelling, and then he felt a prick in his arm and the world went black again.

The next was in a metal room surrounded by screens and green people carrying metal tools, a seemed hilarious to Evan, green dragons carrying forks and spoons. 

One flash was a delicate hand touching his cheek and his name being softly whispered as he was kissed on the forehead.

When he finally came to, he was surrounded by pillows in the middle of a room painted the color of someone who's been working at a job they hate for forty years.

It was also filled with beds, most of them empty save for a few, but the other people were all fast asleep.

There were vases everywhere filled with any combination of flowers you could imagine.

Remembering the events that had placed him there, he looked down to see how hurt he was.

His legs and right arms were covered in bandages of various sizes, and his arm was wrapped heavily in a large cast.

He had a hospital gown, but he could feel the bandages wrapped around his chest, and a deep breath told him that he'd probably broken a rib or two.

He was attached via rubber tubes, to several machine and bags slowly leaking fluid into him.

Reaching up to his face, he felt around, fingers resting on a bandage above his eye, and he guessed by the numbness that it had been stitched up.

He was surprised by a movement at his side, and looked down to see that

lying next to him, cheeks wet, fast asleep, was Zoe.

He smiled to himself, wincing at the pain, and gently poked her in the arm.

Nothing.

"Zoe?"

He whispered, poking her again.

She slowly opened her eyes and gasped at him, promptly falling off the bed.

"EVAN!!"

She yelled, hugging him softly, careful of his chest and arm.

A nurse came rushing in, slightly out of breath, eyes wide with fear.

"Is everything okay?"

She asked, rushing to Evan's side to check the machine and bags.

Zoe nodded her head, giving the nurse a look of sympathy.

"Yeah he's fine, he's just... awake."

The nurse put her hands on her hips.

"Then I'd thank you not to tell in the middle of the ICU."

She said in the tone of a mother chastising her children.

"Of course, I'm so sorry."

Zoe replied.

The nurse nodded and smiled, apparently satisfied with that. She walked away to check on the other patients.

"I thought that only family was allowed in the ICU?"

Evan whispered to Zoe.

She nodded solemnly. 

"If anyone asks, we're married, but you couldn't afford a ring because of your gambling addiction."

He snorted, the pain blacking out his vision and making him groan.

Zoe called the nurse back over, who nodded and injected something into Evan that pulled him slowly back into oblivion.


End file.
